


Death Match

by Fluencca



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluencca/pseuds/Fluencca
Summary: Based on an anonymous prompt from Tumblr:Tony beating up mysterio in the afterlife?So it's essentially that.





	Death Match

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting, no beta and we die as men, etc. Mostly, I was browsing the prompts and I needed to get this out for some unknown reason.

Tony is. To be or not to be isn’t a question for him, it’s a state. He wielded the power of the stones, and for a moment he flowed through the universe and the universe through him, like a visceral fade-through-white. In his last moments all he could say was a thin, weak, “Pep,” but it wasn’t because he was dying. For the first time in his life his mind was running at full capacity, processing _everything _at once: the locations of all the black holes and the number of stars and how many Xiorians were born that year. His body couldn’t keep up. But he’s known since he was a toddler that energy is never wasted, and that once you channel the _entire universe_, the universe doesn’t just let you go. 

So Tony is. Except when he isn’t. He is the universe now, which is a lot more peaceful than it sounds. For the most part, he gives himself up to the energy of Mind. His rest is greatest when he just thinks, or lets the universe think for him, hearing all the sentient thoughts of all the worlds in a soothing hum of continual creation. Time is meaningless, of course, but that’s how he spends most of his. He can choose how much to spend where, whether to join the energy of Power or Time or Mind. He likes to join the flow of Reality now and again, to check in on those he left behind. 

There’s little sorrow on his part. Pepper never lied to him when he lived, and she didn’t lie as he was dying, either. She and Magoona were okay. Everyone was okay. Happy’s even found someone special, finally. So Tony dips out of Reality again and enjoys the minds of all the people who have lived on all the planets that were ever made. 

And then something called him back. It started as an itch the back of his consciousness. He ignored it for an ever, but it shot red tendrils across his thoughts, what passed for his being. Reality, _his _reality, was begging his attention, and the Universe wasn’t letting him ignore the summons. The Mind energy flowed onwards from him, away, unfathomable and unreachable. Time, Power, and Space fled from him as well. The energy of Soul and Reality remained to him, but before he could choose between them Reality engulfed him, and he saw. He _saw.   
_

Tony’s mind snapped back into full awareness. He was _Tony, _Pepper’s Tony and Morgan’s daddy and the world’s Iron Man, and he was watching Spider-Man burn. He saw Beck—that sonofabitch—manipulate Peter, using his own kindness against him. He saw Peter being consumed by BARF, twisted and tortured and punished for trying to right a wrong that was done _to _him. And then he saw Peter get hit by a train, and the timeless eternity that is him becomes an unbearable punishment. He saw it happen in slow-motion, the wind knocked out of Peter’s lungs, the momentum of the train break transfer to his ribs, first cracking, then breaking them. He saw his body lacerated by forces it was never meant to withstand.

_Is this what you called me for? _He rages in his mind, and loud enough for it to echo across the universe. _Am I here watch the kid die? Is that why the Soul energy is the other path? I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR HIM! _He screams, and worlds tremble. The universe answers by remaining silent, unchanging. He’s still held by the red energy, and all Tony can do is keep watching.

And he watched as Peter was enveloped by the kindness of strangers. He saw the kid accomplish the unthinkable, and actually call for help as soon as he could. And even though he was bursting with pride, Tony was also getting angrier. Because this was the world he saved, this was the world he left for Peter, and the injustice of Beck using Tony’s sacrifice to ruin that for Peter was too great for reality to contain.

And the injustice kept growing. Because Beck _will not let it go._ Peter bested his drones, and Beck persisted. And he attacked his friends, but Peter managed to shut that down. And as Tony watched, Beck used BARF on Peter one last time, and Peter can’t see it. He’s conversing with the wrong Beck, and he doesn’t see, cannot see the gun inching closer to the back of his head. But Tony can, and he thinks that this must be hell. What else can watching a child murdered be called? And Beck’s finger slowly and silently wraps around the trigger, and the pressure it exerts is firm and unrelenting and final, and Tony knows in that instant that violence isn’t a physical reaction to danger or a biological imperative, it’s laced into the very fibers of existence. He’s vibrating with it, and the strings of reality vibrate with him.

The red energy of Reality ebbs away from him, and he’s engulfed by the Soul stream. For a moment, he’s there alone in a wet desert of the Soul energy, and then a figure appears, and She’s not wearing black leather.

“The Universe remembers what you did for it, Tony,” she says simply.

Tony is back in his own body, in his own Rio t-shirt which he hasn’t seen since before Ultron.

“Nat?”

“You bet, Shellhead. You’re not the only one floating around with the primary forces of creation,” she says drily.

“Nat, I, we all—”

“I know,” she interrupts him, and steps closer for a warm embrace. Tony’s arms wrap around her, and as the sense of touch bursts within him for the first time in an eternity, the arid yellow around them blossoms in blues and greens and bright pinks.

“Aw, you missed me,” Natasha says with a smile, and she looks pleased. Happy. “It’s rare that two souls who love one another should meet here.” At Tony’s questioning look, she adds, “I don’t mean to brag, but I’m kind of the Keeper of the Realm around here. It’s an important gig.”

“I bet,” Tony says, and looks around. But he’s still thrumming with unsung violence, and he can’t help but ask, “But what am _I_ doing here?”

Natasha spreads her hands, gesturing at the vast expanse around them. “This is a vestibule, a stop on the way to what’s Beyond. Everyone who dies passes here, just for a short while before moving on. I know their souls, all of them. Even you, you big softie,” she smirks. But then she’s serious again.

“Tony, no one knows all the secrets of the Universe, but I know some. And someone’s about to pass through here, and the Universe wanted you to have a chance to meet them, to have a few moments.”

There’s a stone in Tony’s newfound corporeal chest, and it tries to beat but it fails. “Is it the kid?” He whispers.

She doesn’t really answer him. “I always liked Mark VII best,” she says instead, and before Tony registers that he’s in the suit he wore the first time they fought together as Avengers, Natasha turns to leave. “I’ll see you around, Stark.”

And with a flash of blinding light, she’s gone, and in her place is Quentin Beck. It’s not the kid. Not Peter. Tony blinks away wetness from the eyes of this temporary body.

Beck rises from the ground where he lay, looking around, alarmed.

“What—where am I? What is this?” And then he sees Tony.

“You’re dead, Quentin. Spider-Man kicked your ass, and then you did him the favor of killing yourself for him.”

Beck has the audacity to laugh. “This is better than I could have _dreamed,_ Stark. To see you, here, where it all ends? To spit at you, one last time? To let you know that Peter—he’s a good kid, by the way, I get why you liked him—will suffer for a long time thanks to me? Not in my wildest dreams. And the best part is that it all circles back to you. You never should have stolen the augmented reality tech from me, Stark.”

“You weren’t even on the algorithm team for that, Beck. You did _software,_” Tony says dismissively, and because he doesn’t know how much time he has he lowers his faceplate and shoots Beck in the chest with his gauntlet. God, he missed his suit.

Beck stands up again, but stumbles this time. He stands, swaying, and says, “You think that’s going to make a difference? I’m _dead!” _He laughs again.

Tony almost believes him, until he remembers how the realm lit up when he hugged Nat. If there’s emotion, there’s physical impact. And Tony has emotion to spare. He fires his thrusters and rises gently into the air. “So am I,” he says, and comes at Beck with the force of a small jet. Or a high-speed train.

And he doesn’t stop. Beck is defenseless, but Tony doesn’t care. Because Peter was defenseless, too. So were those other kids. The realm seems to grow as the fight progresses, providing walls against which to slam Beck, and space for Tony to circle around to attack from new angles. Injuries don’t show up as they should, so Tony is denied the satisfaction of watching Beck spit blood or pass out. But Tony has no trouble knowing what it should look and sound like. Peter’s battered body is all too fresh in his mind, the sound of his tearing flesh and breaking bones the fuel for Tony to continue breaking Beck’s. Tony knows Beck can _feel_ the injuries, and that’s enough. For the first time he feels like a Merchant of Death, and he doesn’t mind the moniker at _all_.

By the time Nat returns, Tony is spent and Quentin is curled into himself, begging Tony to stop, pleading that he’s so so sorry. Tony is unmoved.

Natasha leans down to Beck, whispers something in his ear, and in the moment before he vanishes Tony sees his eyes widen in fear. Tony feels something within him uncoil, and he likes to think that somewhere out there, the kid felt it too.

“It’s time to go,” Natasha says to him, kindly. “No one can stay here for long, no one but me.”

Tony nods once. He understands. But before he returns to his existence, he has to know.

“If the Universe allowed me to do this, why not let me stop it before it happened? Why not let me intervene before Beck could do all that damage?”

Natasha tilts her head. “That’s just not how it works. There are rules, Tony. There’s a wire between that world and this, and it can’t be crossed.”

Tony’s eyes shot up to study her face. The words bore a sense of finality, but also a tacit challenge.

“What would you possibly do about it?” Natasha asked, and if she knew his soul, then in this moment he knew her mind.

_I think I would just cut the wire. _

Tony exists. But he is no longer floating on the energy streams of the Universe. He is navigating them, because now he has rules to break; a problem to solve; and wires to cut. Because energy doesn’t just disappear, and if he and Nat have anything in common, it’s that they love breaking rules.

**Author's Note:**

> Although this was a quickie for me, I do like to think that Tony isn't gone-gone, even if he never makes another MCU appearance. Add to that some comic book science and mysticism, and add to THAT some Joss Whedon storytelling, I think I can get away with this being more-or-less canon compliant, or at least canonically feasible if you squint real hard. 
> 
> Also, don't be mean to Peter Parker cause Tony *will* f##k you up in the afterlife. That part is 100% fact. Be warned.


End file.
